


how do you move on?

by call_me_steve



Series: the aftermath [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Dead Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Offscreen character death, Robin: Son of Batman - Freeform, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 09:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24967786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve
Summary: Den Darga- during the events of Damian's year of atonement- comes up with a horrible plot to destroy the world, which involves using a 'Spirit Battery'. In order to stop his plan, Damian uses his own body to redirect the current, resulting in his own death. Suren and Maya call the wrong name. Damian never comes back.After all of that, Maya and Suren travel to Gotham and track down Tim Drake. It's to him that they break the news, and now it's up toTimto spread the news to everyone else, and too figure out how to recover.It's all he can do to hope that he'll have his family alongside him.Bruce, however, is just as stubborn as he's always been. He doesn't want his son to stay dead. He wants to do everything in his power to bring him back.
Relationships: Suren Darga & Maya Ducard, Suren Darga & Tim Drake & Maya Ducard, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: the aftermath [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748593
Comments: 9
Kudos: 116





	1. hot chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> so, here's the deal!! the first four chapters of this were all originally one-shots, so if you've read those, then you probably don't have to re-read them. unless, of course, you want to. :) 
> 
> since the ideas for this fic actually ended up with me coming up with a real plot, i decided the best course of action was to take what was originally supposed to be a single fic, and to turn it into a multi-chaptered fic instead. so! here we are. 
> 
> the rest of the series and any accompanied one-shots will mostly be up to you guys! who do you want to see learn about what happened? do you want to see any alternate p.o.v. reactions? if you do, and if i can write them, they'll show up as a one-shot in the series! 
> 
> come shout at me over at my tumblr about it: [@potato-reblob](https://potato-reblob.tumblr.com/)

In the background of it all, the TV blares a senseless show. Tim’s not really listening to it as he lounges on the couch, his laptop settled down on his stomach. He’s sifting through files for work- both his nightly activities and his WE responsibilities. It’s been slow lately, so he doesn’t have much stuff to do. He’s mostly just going back and double checking everything over. The case he’s working on is a shared one between him and the other Titans- something about a continuous crook sneaking around. Since Tim’s still stuck in Gotham until next week, because of a series of work meetings he can’t miss, he’s been doing the paperwork part for it. 

On the counter over in his kitchen, his phone rings. He’d left it over there when he’d gotten up for his bag of chips, which now sits on the floor beside him. There’s no doubt that it’s probably just Jason asking him if they’re still on for dinner before they go out on patrol. 

Ever since… ever since _Dick…_ and his whole _Ric_ thing, the two had gotten closer. They’re the only two they really have left, what with Damian dropping off the grid every once in a while. The last time Tim _saw_ Dick and Damian had been over that whole _Robin War_ fiasco. Bruce had been without memories, but now that _he’s_ back in the game, it seems that _Dick_ isn’t. 

Tim lets out a sigh he doesn’t really mean to and wonders if he should bother getting up for his phone. The clock on his computer says it’s still relatively early- only around three p.m. He’ll wait until around four at the very most to get up and text. He’s comfortable as he is right now. 

At least, he _is,_ until he hears a sharp knock at his door. 

He has the mind to just ignore it- it won’t be Jason, since Jason hardly cares to use the door on a good day, let alone _knock._ He’s not expecting anyone either, so there’s no telling who could be at the door. It’s only when the knocks continue to persist, getting choppier as they go, that he decides to get up, just to give himself some peace and quiet. 

The door swings open possibly faster than he’d meant to, the scowl on his face just presenting a horrible-- first impression? He doesn’t recognize the two… _kids,_ there's no way they’re any older than Damian is. At most, they’re only older by a handful of years, since they’re both about Tim’s height. They’re both looking at Tim with the same lost, upset expression. 

The taller of the two, and possibly the older, is a girl with olive skin and short, choppy hair. She’s dressed in a costume of sorts. The only part of it that Tim recognizes is the mask in her hands- six magenta slits sparkling against the dull, light purple, metallic hue of the rest of it. Her eyes are dark, red rimmed and puffy. She looks unbelievably exhausted. Her companion, shorter and with longer hair, blazing green eyes and a warrior-like getup. He looks uncomfortable to be standing beside her, his hands wrapped in dirty bandages. They both, actually, look out of place among the proper halls of Tim’s apartment building. 

“This was the only place I could think of to go,” the girl says, voice thick. “We-” 

Despite himself, Tim gestures for them to come inside. 

Something in his gut is swirling and choking. He _knows_ that something is wrong, something terrible. He doesn’t recognize the two before him, but they’re battered and bruised and look like they’ve gone through the ringer a handful of times. Besides, Tim _knows_ that they must know who he is- that they know he’s Red Robin. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t. 

He has them sit on the couch as he beelines to the kitchen, mechanically putting a kettle full of water on the stove. He pulls out three mugs, filling one with pre-made coffee from the pot and setting aside two packets of hot chocolate for the kids. While waiting for the water to heat, he reaches for his phone. 

_Jason: im coming over at 5 w/ food. ur paying me back this time_

Part of him wants to laugh at the second half of the text, but instead, he gets to typing out, _Get here earlier. We have company. I don’t know who they are._

The kettle starts to screech. Past the counters, Tim can see the boy jump, bewildered, from where he’d been staring at the TV in confusion. The girl mutters to him in soft tones, too quiet for TIm to pick up on. She sets a hand on the boy’s knee, returning his attention to her. It’s an odd show, seeing the boy’s brows crease as he stares at a good lot of the things in Tim’s apartment as if they’re new to him. Tim pushes it away and pours water into the mugs, ripping open the hot chocolate powder packets and pouring them in. He doesn’t mix them, just drops a spoon into each one. Carefully, he brings them out into the living room and sets them on the coffee table, once he gets coasters down. 

“They’re hot,” he warns, when the boy reaches over to grab at it. Tim retreats back into the kitchen for his coffee and his phone, making sure to have Jason’s contact open in case of emergency. “I- I should ask you guys your names.” 

The girl keeps her head bowed, but the boy beside her just turns his gaze to the side, avoiding eye contact. “We’re friends of Damian,” the girl says, after a beat. “I’m Maya Ducard and this is Suren Darga.” 

And-

Tim _knows_ both of those names. The last names at least. Maya Ducard, he assumes, has some relation to _Morgan_ Ducard. The mask reflects _Nobody,_ after all. When Ducard died, Tim had mostly forced all thought of him and his alter ego out of his mind. There was no need to dwell on the man any longer, but now it seems that he had a _daughter_ that took up the name. Darga rings more distant bells- a name he’d heard in passing from Damian or Bruce once or twice. 

But the fact that they’re _friends of Damian_ sets off more red flags than anything else. The two don’t look like threats, they look tired and beat and _upset._ But, if they’re looking for Damian, then why would they come to _Tim_ of all people? Surely Bruce is somewhere in Gotham. Even if Damian is off the grid, still. 

_Why?_

“I don’t know where he is,” Tim says. “So, if you’re looking for him, I think talking to _Batman_ would yield more results. Actually, I don’t think _he_ knows where Damian is either.” 

Maya curls in on herself, her arms wrapping around her like she’s cold. She shouldn’t be, the weather outside is actually kind of nice and Tim’s apartment is normally kept warm. “We aren’t looking for Damian,” she says. “We were just- we were just with him- Before-” 

That really bad feeling in Tim’s gut gets bigger- big enough that it feels like it’s trying to swallow him whole. His phone buzzes beneath his thigh, and Tim can only hope that it’s Jason promising him that he’s on his way. He watches as Suren goes to grab at his mug again, taking this spoon and swirling his cocoa with wide eyes. Like Maya’s, his eyes are red, but he looks more off-center than anything. 

“It’s my fault,” Suren says, with soft conviction. He brings the mug to his lips, almost _suspiciously,_ and takes a sip. 

“It’s your _dad’s_ fault,” Maya snaps back. 

“I said the wrong name.” 

“You wouldn’t have _known,_ ” she replies, something like loathing spilling into her voice. “You knew him for a handful of- of _what?_ Days?” 

“It’s my fault,” Suren repeats. 

Tim finds himself gripping the mug in his hands tightly, no matter how much the heat bites at his hands. He can name the something, now, as apprehension. He isn’t sure he wants to know what they’re talking about, if he wants to know what the problem is that requires a fault to be pinned on someone. 

“What’s all this have to do with Damian?” he finds himself asking. The TV behind him is loud and distracting, so he reaches over for the remote to mute it, instead of turning it off. He breathes hard through his nose and asks, “What _happened?_ ” 

Again, it’s Maya who speaks, after grabbing her own mug and taking an experimental sip. “We’d just gotten done stopping Suren from destroying the world, or whatever it was that he was doing. Well, _Damian_ stopped him. Talked him out of doing it. Batman was there- so was Damian’s mom?” She stops, to keep her voice from shaking. “She’s kind of fucked up.” 

“No kidding,” Tim can’t stop himself from saying. 

“She- She wanted to interrogate Suren, but Damian didn’t want to let her- He wasn’t convinced that she wouldn’t take advantage of Suren and use him. But, when we left, we ran into Suren’s dad’s warriors and stuff.” She waves her hands over the details, like she doesn’t really understand what had happened either. “Eventually it was Suren’s dad. He was trying to do something, but- I don’t- I don’t know _what._ I know he called it the Spirit Battery. They were supposed to do it if the apocalypse hadn’t happened- and it didn’t.” 

Suren opens his mouth to explain further, but Maya doesn’t let him as she swallows what looks like a sob. 

Tim thinks he knows what comes next, but he asks anyway, “What _happened?_ ” 

“He- He _said_ the discharge would kill him,” Maya says. “He told us to leave. He told us he was going to try shorting it out.” 

Instead of repeating _what happened,_ Tim finds his voice quivering with something like rage. “Where’s Damian?” he asks, desperate. 

Maya stares down at her hands. 

Tim forces himself up, not caring when his mug slams into the ground and shatters, coffee spilling everywhere. “ _Where’s my little brother?!_ ” he cries. Some part of him understands how unfair this is, asking a teenager to answer him. He knows it himself, it’s got to be near impossible to get the words out, especially when Tim already knows what they’ll be. “Where is he?” 

He knows what they’ll _be,_ but he doesn’t want to hear it. 

Suren looks at Maya, realizing she won’t say it. His gaze shifts back to Tim, looking impossibly lost. “We tried to get him back,” he says. “I called the wrong name.” 

“Please,” Tim pleads. “Just tell me.” 

Maya lets out a sob, and even though Tim’s only known her for less than an hour, it _sounds_ uncharacteristic of her. “He’s _dead,_ ” she finally spits out. “We called the wrong name and by the time I realized it, it was too late to bring him back.” 

Yeah. Tim knew what they were going to be, but absolutely _nothing_ prepares him for the punch it brings. He feels like he’s just gotten thrown into the ground by bane, or like Scarecrow just pumped a metric ton of fear gas into him and Bruce just delivered the antidote. Either way, his entire _person_ feels destroyed- by two simple words that shake him to the core. 

Part of him wants to start _raging,_ to start tearing at things and shattering others. Damian _just came back_ to them. They _just_ got him _back,_ after the Heretic and Leviathan. They just dealt with the Court of Owls too, just stopped Damian from becoming their _Gray Son._

And now- and now he’s dead. He’s dead _again,_ for the second time in his thirteen years of life. 

Oh _God._

His knees start shaking, so to prevent himself from falling, he plops back down heavily in his chair. He brings up his legs, tucking them close to his body. For some reason, the one thing he whispers happens to be, _what did you call him,_ instead of anything else. He wants to know if it _hurt_ him. Did Damian die alone again? Did he lay there for a little bit before he died, riding the pain like he’d done when the Heretic tried his hand at killing him? Or, this time, did it go quickly? 

“We should’ve called for Robin,” Maya happens to say. “We should’ve called for the Son of Batman, not the _son of al Ghul._ ” 

Suren looks guilty, before he says, “I thought that your lineage meant more than anything else.” 

So had Damian, once upon a time.

“He’s a hero,” Maya continues. “He’s saved the world time and time again- he’s saved _me_ time and time again. And- and to _think._ I wanted to _kill him._ ” 

“He was nice to me,” Suren says, in disbelief. “He was the _first person_ to tell me that I deserve to be loved.” 

Finally, Tim musters up the courage to ask, “How?” 

Maya looks up. “How- how _what?_ ” 

“How did he _die?_ ” Tim asks. He blinks away the tears building in his eyes, trying to breathe. 

“The discharge from the Spirit Battery,” Suren says, like it’s something _everyone_ should understand. Maya shoves his shoulder, something that’d look playful if they both weren’t so upset. 

“It was like electricity. He disrupted the current of the spirits, sent them towards _him_ instead. It- it overloaded his body or something.” She lets her face fall into her hands as she swallows another sob, muttering out an, _I don’t know, I don’t know._ “I think he might’ve been in pain,” she near whispers, before adding on in a whine, “he didn’t deserve to _die._ ” 

Tim finds himself getting up, moving over to the teenager’s sides across from him. He wraps an arm around Maya and pulls her close, allowing her to tuck her head into the crook of his neck. Sobs wrack her body. It gets hard for Tim not to break down too. When he goes to pull Suren into the embrace, he flinches away, so Tim settles by putting a hand on the kid’s knee and rubbing circles on it with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” Maya cries. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Tim replies. “I’ll bet he’s just happy that _you two_ didn’t get killed along with him.” 

In the background of it all, the TV blares a senseless show.


	2. mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason appears at Tim's apartment. Both Maya and Suren are gone, and Tim's about to break down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr: [@potato-reblob](https://potato-reblob.tumblr.com/)

It takes three days for Tim to call Bruce. 

Jason bursts into his apartment through the window soon after Tim sees Maya and Suren off, both saying something about _Goliath_ and _Ravi._ Tim gets the feeling that Damian’s been hiding people from this side of the family- that his world is bigger than just Bruce Wayne and Batman. It’s not like he can ask him anymore, about it, so he just watches his answers slip away. 

But, yes, Jason comes. Jason comes with a sheepish smile and a bloody side, telling him that he’d tried to come when Tim had texted, but ended up falling from a rooftop in his haste. He’s in his uniform, helmet tucked against his hip as he slips in, domino mask pressed against his face for some semblance of privacy. He’s far too jolly for Tim’s mood and he can’t seem to read the room all too well, as he prods Tim and jokes, saying they’ll just have to order in because he’d forgotten to stop anywhere.

Tim only hears Jason’s word behind a dull roar in his ears, too focused on trying to tell himself that _Damian’s dead_ and trying to get it through his thick skull. He doesn’t want to _believe_ it. He doesn’t think he can _make_ himself believe it. 

He knows he’ll have to wait until it hits him like a truck, and then he’ll spend the night screaming and crying at the city beyond, beating up anyone dumb enough to get in his way. 

And then it hits him- really hits him- that _Jason doesn’t know._ He’s not going to be getting a surprise visit on his doorstep by any random kids. He’s not going to be getting a letter in the mail saying _I’m so sorry for your loss._ No- It’s up to Tim to tell Jason, and it’s up to _Tim_ to tell everyone else in Gotham that’s ever remotely liked Damian. 

While he’s lost in his thoughts, he misses Jason’s gaze slipping through the room. He misses Jason’s sharp inhale when his brother sees the shattered mug on the ground and the puddle of coffee Tim hasn’t cleaned up. He misses the way that Jason side eyes him, something like worry blooming on his face. 

“Shit, Replacement. The hell happened here while I was gone?” Jason questions, waving a hand in front of Tim’s face. “Like, I know you don’t look dead or whatever, but you look _dead._ ” 

That’s not a funny joke anymore. That’s not a funny _joke_ because _Damian is dead,_ but Tim can’t blame his brother because Jason doesn’t know yet. 

Tim sucks in a deep breath. He has to tell someone, and it’s going to be Jason. It _has_ to be Jason, because Jason is _here_ and- “Damian’s dead,” he says, without pretense. “Damian’s dead and I didn’t get to say _goodbye-_ I never even got to tell him that I _loved_ him- he’s my fucking _brother_ and he’s-”

Jason- where Dick would have just pulled Tim into his arms- goes completely still and his face goes eerily blank. All jokes bleed from his body as he inhales sharply through his nose, before letting it out through his mouth. Tim thinks he’s about to start hyperventilating or something, the second time Jason does it, before he realizes that he’s doing a breathing exercise so he _doesn’t_ start to panic. 

Very carefully, he asks, “What do you _mean_ he’s dead.” 

The question falls flat. There is no question mark- there is no humor in Jason’s tone. There’s nothing _there,_ and somehow- that scares Tim so much more than any other reaction that he could’ve gotten. 

“Some- some of his friends. They stopped by, and they-” Tim has to sit down. He can’t do this standing up or he thinks he’ll pass out. He walks over to the chair, avoiding the cold coffee and broken cup on the ground. When he sits, he tucks his feet under him, and he presses his heels into his eyes and tries not to cry. “They told me he died. They were trying to save the _fucking world-_ and Damian _died._ ” 

Tim doesn’t hear Jason move- doesn’t even see it- but suddenly, Jason’s on the couch, curled up in the corner by the arm. He doesn’t say anything, just sticks his face between his knees and wraps his arms around his head. 

“Oh _god,_ ” Tim says. “What about _Dick?_ ” 

Dick- well, _Ric_ now- still doesn’t have his memories back. What happens when they _do_ come back? There’s no way that Tim’s going to be able to drag himself to Dick _now_ and tell him- he’s no better than a _stranger._ So how in the world is he going to tell Dick when he comes _back?_ He’ll be torn- his youngest brother, (who, Tim has noticed, is more like Dick’s _son),_ is _dead._

For the second time.

Jason doesn’t answer. 

“What about _Bruce?_ ” Tim asks, next. “And Babs, and _Steph-_ And I _know_ Damian has other friends- I can’t let two _kids_ go tell everyone- I already told them _I’d_ do it.” 

“ _We’ll_ do it,” Jason finally says, and his voice is so quiet, Tim almost doesn’t hear the tears in his voice. “We’ll go find- fucking- Jon and Colin, and we’ll tell Babs and Steph and Duke- and _Cass-_ ” 

“There weren’t that many _people,_ last time,” Tim finds himself replying. He doesn’t look up, though he does move his hands from his face. He trains his eyes on the coffee seeping into his floor, and he thinks that he should clean it up before it sets. “Who’s _Colin?_ ” 

Damian had a whole other _life_ that Tim wasn’t privy to- one with all of these wonderful people that Tim’s never met. He doesn’t know Colin, hadn’t known Maya and Suren, hardly knows Jon. He only _knows_ Jon because of Conner and Clark. And- He’ll have to tell _Clark_ too. He’ll have to tell Clark, and he’s pretty sure that Damian had gotten along with _Billy-_

“I can’t tell Alfred,” Tim chokes out, finally reaching the tipping point. “I can’t do it- not again.” 

“We’ll do it together,” Jason replies. “Or- Or we’ll make _Bruce_ do it. I don’t know-” 

Suddenly, Jason leaps to his feet and lets out a roar, making to slam his fists down onto Tim’s coffee table. He aborts the movement at the last second, moving his hands up to grip at his hair instead. “What the _hell?!_ ” he bursts out, loud enough that, for a moment, Tim worries about his neighbors hearing. “What did Damian fucking _do_ to _deserve_ this again?! Goddamn kid dies saving _Gotham_ the first time around- all because of his own _fucking mother-_ and this time he dies trying to save the entire _world?!_ ” 

“His friend- Suren Darga-” Tim feels the need to add, “his _dad_ killed Damian. How fucked up is that?” 

Jason falls back down onto the couch heavily, laying his elbow on his knee, and cradling his head. “Dames told me he went to Hell the first time around,” he says, softly. There’s an unspoken weight to that question that Tim hates- he hates that Damian never trusted him enough to tell _him_ that. _Do you think that he’s going to go back?_ Jason’s asking. _Do you think that he’s going to finally get into Heaven?_

“He deserves Heaven,” Tim says, just as quiet. “He _deserves_ it- for saving the world all over again. Why didn’t he go in the first place?”

“He told me _I_ went to Heaven,” Jason says, instead of replying. “I find it impossible to believe that _I_ went to Heaven and _he didn’t._ ” 

Tim finds it impossible to believe that he ever thought that Damian _deserved_ to go to hell. Every time that he’s ever called Damian _demon spawn-_ Every time he ever told Damian to _go-_ that he’d rather not _deal_ with Damian- He never got to tell Damian that he _loved_ him, never told him that he was his _brother._

“Damian’s dead,” Tim says, to himself. 

“Damian’s dead,” Jason echoes.

After a beat, Jason stands up again. Whereas the first time he’d stood, he’d startled Tim, this time, Tim just watches him. Jason disappears into Tim’s kitchen and emerges with a roll of paper towels tucked under his elbow, a broom tossed over his shoulder, and a dustpan in his free hand. He beelines over to Tim and jabs at him with his foot. Tim looks at his brother like he’s crazy, but gets up when Jason persists. 

“We’re not going to sit around and mope,” Jason says. “Not this time.” 

Tim wants to feel angry at that- wants to yell because, _why can’t I have time to_ mourn, _Jason? Why?_ He relocates to the couch, and stares as Jason wipes up the coffee and sweeps up the remains of his mug. His hands dig into the flesh of his arms from how hard he’s gripping them. 

“When Damian came back, he told us all-” -not Tim, though. He didn’t tell Tim- “-that he didn’t _like_ that we stopped functioning so we could mourn.” Tim gets the feeling that the conversation didn’t go like that. He doesn’t say anything about it- Jason’s jaw sets, face resolute. “I know from personal _experience_ that us dead folk don’t like it that much when people do that, too, so this time- This time, we’re going to have our sob fest when we’re all _together._ ” 

“ _Why?_ ” 

Jason raises, cracking his back. In his left hand is sopping wet paper towels, in his other, a full dust pan. He looks Tim dead in the eyes and he says, “We’re a family, Tim. We’re going to go through this _together._ ” 

His words have a double meaning. 

Tim stands up, and stalks over to Jason, taking the stuff in his hands. He sets it down on the coffee table, careful to put the towels in the dustpan so he can throw it all out together. Once they’re set aside, he turns back to his brother, and leans into his chest.

Jason’s never liked physical contact, in any way or kind or shape. Tim hadn’t actually thought that Jason would _respond,_ or do anything beyond just stand there with Tim’s head against his chest, but-

Jason, carefully, wraps his arms around Tim. 

“I’m not saying- I’m not telling you not to mourn. It’s _normal_ to mourn. But- We don’t need to _quit_ functioning to do it. We don’t need to _mope_ around the _house_ and- and-” Jason groans, and turns his head down like Dick used to do, so that his nose is buried in Tim’s hair. After a moment, he moves his head back up, so just his chin rests on Tim’s head. “We don’t need to lose ourselves completely, okay? It’s not what Damian would want.”

_How would you know?_ Tim wants to cry. _Damian’s not even_ here-

But- Apparently, Damian had talked to Jason far more than he’d ever talked to Tim. 

Damian had his own life, Tim thinks again. Damian had his own, whole other _life_ that didn’t involve _Tim._

And now it never will. 

Tim’s shoulders start to shake. 

(The TV’s still on, in the background.)


	3. tea cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Jason head to the manor to let Bruce know about Damian's passing. As much as Tim keeps thinking to himself, Bruce should've been there, he knows that it's no one's fault.
> 
> Bruce, though, is still the same old man, deep down. He thinks that they can bring Damian back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning??: slight suicidal thoughts, and talk about damian's death to heretic!
> 
> come talk to me abt the au on my tumblr!: [potato-reblob](https://potato-reblob.tumblr.com/)

Tim’s hands are white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. 

Jason sits in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the manor. They’ve been sitting in the front circle for about ten minutes now. After all of Jason’s speech, he doesn’t seem like he’s living up to it anymore. He just looks like he’s _empty._ Like he’s tired. Tim feels that same sort of tired- the deep and weary kind that eats away at your bones. All he wants to do is curl up in his bed at his apartment and _cry._ Once he’s done crying, he might pass out and sleep like the dead. 

Maybe he won’t wake u-

_No._ Dear _Lord,_ no. Tim’s not going to let himself go back down that road. There’s no way in _hell_ he’s going to do that again. The circumstances are already way too similar. (Dick’s gone, Damian’s dead, it’s only Tim and Jason-)

Tim takes a deep breath through his nose, and he nearly has to pry his own hands from the wheel. Mechanically, he fumbles to turn off the car and pull the keys out of the ignition. Once he’s done that, he lays his head back against the window and breathes in and he breathes out. 

“Ready?” he asks Jason, who definitely isn’t ready.

“Yeah,” Jason replies. 

They open their doors at the same time and they slip out together. It feels like that night when they’d arrived for Damian’s funeral. Well, _first_ funeral. Tim wonders if they’ll hold another one, with no body to bury this time. Or- Or _was_ there a body? Did Maya and Suren have to leave the corpse behind? Will _Tim_ have to go back to get him? It’s probably horrible of him to say, but Tim doesn’t want to go get Damian’s body. He doesn’t want to see his brother’s body-

The thought of it makes him want to throw up. He’d seen Damian’s body the first time around, with bits of broken arrows sticking out of him. His body had been _completely_ drowned in red, no hints of yellow in his cape. Tim had been high on adrenaline- _too_ high on adrenaline too really understand why Damian was limp. He’d stared at Damian, felt something stir in his chest.

Tim remembers looking to Dick, who’d cradled Damian’s body like it was more precious than the world’s most expensive jewels. “Do we need to get a doctor?” Tim had asked, as Bruce flocked away to deal with the cube-thing they’d had to save. At the time, nothing was really registering with him. Not the name of the girl he’d saved, not the name of the box. Certainly not this- not Damian’s body. “How hurt is he?” 

He remembers Dick looking up, defeated. Damian’s cape was folded over his head, blocking out his face. Instead of saying anything, he’d motioned for Tim to come sit down beside him. When Tim had, Dick had pressed his fingers to Tim’s neck, feeling for a pulse. When he’d found it, he’d pulled Tim’s hand to his own neck. 

Dick’s pulse had been erratic. 

“We’re okay,” Dick had said, but Tim had only looked at him blankly. “We’re alive, Timmy, but-” 

_But?_

The door opens- in the present- and out steps Alfred. Tim realizes that him and Jason have been standing in front of the manor’s front doors for just as long as they’d been sitting in the car. Alfred probably realizes that something’s wrong, what with both of their eyes being blank. 

“Master Timothy,” Alfred says, and Tim kind of shakes because only Alfred and Damian have ever called him Timothy. “Master Jason. We weren’t expecting you.” 

Jason probably says something, but Tim can’t understand a word of it. He follows along when Jason tugs at his wrist, and ends up in one of their many dens with a tea cup pressed between his hands. Jason’s sitting beside him, staring away at the coffee table as his tea goes cold. All Tim wants to do is stand up and leave, to slam his tea cup into the ground and watch as it shatters against the ground like his coffee mug. He wants to storm through the manor’s halls until he runs into Bruce, and he wants to bury his hands into Bruce’s collar and _scream._

_You should’ve been there,_ he wants to say. _You should’ve made sure that Damian could’ve_ called _you, and you should’ve made sure that he didn’t have to deal with it all by_ himself-

He wasn’t by himself. Tim knows he wasn’t- there was Maya and Suren there. But- why not Bruce? Why-

“Tim?” comes a voice, from the doorway. “Jason?” 

It’s Bruce. Suddenly, Tim doesn’t feel like being violent anymore. He just wants a hug. He just wants to run into his dad’s arms and cry as hard as he can, because the world is turning and it feels like it shouldn’t. Bruce drifts into his line of sight, and Tim doesn’t stand up. He just sits beside Jason as Jason tries to give him a greeting. 

Alfred’s sitting in the arm chair, now. That’s good, Tim thinks. They don’t have to go find him, now. Tim doesn’t have to croak out, _You have to find Alfie._

“When’s the last time you saw Damian?” Tim hears Jason ask, voice choked. “When’s the last time the two of you talked to each other?” 

Bruce blinks at the two of them, as he settles down onto the coffee table. First, he braces with his hand, to make sure the table won’t shatter under his weight. “Just the other day, I believe,” Bruce says. “I just came home from the Watchtower- I headed there after I left Damian with Talia and that friend of his. Maya, I believe he called her.” 

Instead of cutting to the chase, Tim croaks out, “What happened? Why did you need to-?” 

“There was this boy, Suren Darga, if I’m correct. He was about to destroy the world and I had to come and help Damian. I assume that Talia was there only to _protect_ Damian, but Damian ended up talking Suren Darga out of destroying the world because his father had told him too. After that, once I was sure that Damian was alright, I’d left for the Watchtower. It wouldn’t make any sense to stay and engage Talia in another argument about Damian.” 

Tim can see that sparkle in Bruce’s eyes, that says there’s a bit more to the story than he’s letting on. “And?” he asks. _What else do you know?_

Bruce rubs at the back of his neck, and sheepishly adds, “I distracted Talia long enough to allow Damian to break Suren out of Talia’s hold. He didn’t want Talia to use him as a child soldier, as she’d tried to do with him. I believe they went out to do something together- to _hang out_ as you say.” 

_Do you know what happened after?_ Tim wants to ask. _Do you know what you did when you let Damian leave with Suren and Maya? Why didn’t you go with them to make sure that they were alright?_

Neither Tim nor Jason speak up, before Bruce continues, a little confused, “Did you come here to talk about mine and Damian’s relationship? I understand that I should be there for him, a bit more than I normally am, but I figured I could give him a bit more time.” 

Jason says, “Now you won’t _ever_ get to ‘be there for him’, so maybe you should’ve realized what kind of life we’re living, and _maybe-”_ -and he pushes himself to his feet, now, sticking his face in front of Bruce’s as he looks on as confused as Tim had been, that first time Damian died- “you should’ve realized- you should’ve-” He runs out of steam, and flounders back, dropping down onto the couch.

Bruce stands up in turn, finding his way over. He places a hand on Jason’s knee, shooting Tim a concerned glance. “I think that you need to tell me what all this is about,” he says, urging one of them to speak up. “I don’t understand what you two are talking about.” 

Just like he’d done with Jason, Tim decides to tear off the band-aid and deal with life as it comes. “Damian’s dead,” he explains, quiet enough that he’s almost afraid that Bruce won’t hear him. “When he left with Maya and Suren, something happened with Suren’s dad- I don’t know the full of it, but I know that Suren’s dad was trying to do something, and Damian stopped him.” 

“Damian’s dead,” Bruce repeats, hollowly. He rubs his hand over his face, and Tim sees Alfred in the corner of his eyes stand up and leave the room. 

“I don’t know how,” Tim replies. “Maya said there was some kind of spirit battery- the discharge killed him.” Putting those words together makes Tim think of _electricity._ It makes Tim think of _electrocution,_ and he remembers what Maya had said.

_It overloaded his body,_ she’d said. _I think he might’ve been in pain._

“Electrocution,” Tim says, aloud. He shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes and sucks in another breath. For a while, that feels like all he can do.

And then- And then there are arms wrapping around him, and Bruce’s chin is resting on Tim’s head, and Tim feels like his dad just died, feels like he did when he first came to the manor. He forces his hands down and presses his face into Bruce’s shoulder, but he doesn’t feel the tears come. Bruce raises his arm and pulls Jason into the embrace, and Jason’s arm pushes against Tim’s. The contact- all of it- is grounding. 

Tim wonders if Damian’s ever had a hug like this. If Tim ever _would_ have gotten to pull Damian against him and just hold him there. It’s all he wants, now. He just wants to crush his brother into a hug, and _talk_ to him, like they’d done all of those rare nights when Dick was sitting on the couch with a movie on the screen. 

For a while, they stay there. 

For a while, they do, until Alfred comes back into the room, tissues clutched in his hand. He takes a seat beside Jason and wraps an arm over his shoulder, squeezing it gently. Jason settles his head on Alfred’s shoulder.

Bruce pulls back, long enough to ask, “Is there a body?” 

“I don’t know,” Tim breathes out. “I’d have to ask Maya- and I don’t- she’s hardly older than Damian, B.” 

He looks Bruce in the eyes- and there’s that sparkle again, a little different, but still telling. It makes Tim angry, because _that’s_ the same sparkle _Tim_ had, when Bruce had gotten stuck in the time loop. _That’s_ the same sparkle as when Tim had found Bruce dissecting Frankenstien- the same one from the moment before battling against Darkseid. 

“Just let him _rest,_ B,” Tim pleas. 

“If there’s a chance-” Bruce tries. 

Tim thinks about shooting him down, and in the end, he doesn’t have the heart to. 

Tim just wants Damian back. 


	4. despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning that Damian died from the Spirit Battery while with Maya and Suren, Tim and Jason tell Bruce about what happened. Once told, Bruce scrambles for a solution to Damian's death. Tim reminisces about Dick and Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me about the aftermath au over at my tumblr!: [potato-reblob](https://potato-reblob.tumblr.com/)

Tim slowly starts to drift, as Bruce works himself up. 

Bruce lists everything from using the Lazarus Pit to the Chaos Crystal that had originally brought Damian back. He refers to everyone who’s ever died and has come back, writing their names down, one after the other. As he speaks, Jason begs him to stop. Halfway through their one-sided conversation, Alfred has to step away. 

When Bruce gets like this, he’s like a runaway car without breaks. He hurtles forward, slamming through the rules of the universe, snapping them in half with the force of his overwhelming despair. Tim doesn’t even think that the news has really hit him yet- Damian’s death hasn’t registered in his mind. Bruce will probably continue on like this- continue running himself into the ground as he juggles cases and ideas and this raw feeling of hope that only a father lost in grief can achieve, up until the moment that someone comes and knocks him down. 

This isn’t what Jason had been talking about, when he’d made his big speech at Tim’s apartment. He wanted everyone to mourn, but he wanted it to happen differently. No one blaming each other. Everyone leaning on one another. That’s what Damian would’ve wanted, from them. He’d have wanted to see them all heal and move on. 

What Bruce is doing- this isn’t moving on. It’s not even letting Damian move on. But- when has Bruce ever taken Damian’s wants into consideration? Any of their wants into consideration, for that matter? 

Tim’s not trying to call him a bad dad. However much Bruce struggles with his emotions and the like- he does his best, when really striving for communication. But, ever since the Heretic and Damian’s demise, it feels like Bruce has forgotten how communication works. It’s almost as if he’s still mourning Damian for the first time. 

Maybe he is. 

The lengths that Bruce had gone to before- they’d bordered on horrific and extreme. He’d been driven mad by guilt and want, so much so that he drove himself to those extremes. Bruce hurt while he grieved. Bruce hurt himself and Bruce hurt everyone around him.

Tim doesn’t want to have to see that again. He doesn’t want to watch Bruce crash and burn as if no one else is hurting too. Not again. Not over Damian.

As Bruce continues to talk, though, Tim can’t bring himself to say anything. He wants to order Bruce to stop, wants to beg him not to burn out, wants him to promise that he won’t destroy himself like before. In the end, all he can do is stare and imagine the words coming out. Imagine himself saying, Hey, B, please don’t do this. Not again. Tim needs Bruce to stay on planet Earth, this time around. He needs him to stay in the right mindset. (He’d needed him to do that, that first time, too.)

What Tim needs is Bruce. 

Bruce doesn’t understand that. How does Tim get him to understand that, when all he cares about is achieving the impossible? 

“We’ve done it before,” Bruce is saying, and all Tim is thinking is, Please, B, you can’t do this. The hope in Bruce’s voice is all-encompassing and suffocating. “We only need his body.” 

To get the body, Tim will have to ask Maya and Suren. He doesn’t want to ask that of two children. He doesn’t even want to ask that of himself. And thinking of them- it reminds Tim of the other people he has to inform, and that reminds him of overwhelming responsibility and the fact that he never tried hard enough to be a part of Damian’s life. He’ll never get the chance to, now, unless Bruce pulls another miracle out of his ass.

Jason speaks up again, his own voice desperate. “C’mon, B. Give it a rest. You want him back. You’ll always want him back. Can’t we just sit down and mourn him, first? Just this once? Let him rest. Only for a little while longer.” 

“Any longer, and we might not get him back at all,” Bruce snaps. “Don’t you want Damian to come home?” 

It’s the way that he says it, that makes Tim so angry. He implies that death is only like walking away from home and finding yourself lost. He makes it sound like bringing someone back is easy- like Damian’s only gone off to the mall and they only have to convince him to come back. Whatever the message really is, it still sends Tim rocketing up to his feet, fists tight by his side. 

“Quit acting like this doesn’t affect us!” he shouts. “Quit acting like this doesn’t affect you! Damian’s gone, Bruce! Do you even realize that? He’s not missing! He’s not far away! He’s dead! And until you understand that, all you’re ever going to do is run yourself into the ground!” 

Jason’s the one who goes to calm him down, his own sharp edges softening as he calls Tim’s name. It’s odd how their roles have been switched around, as of late. Normally, Jason’s the one yelling and Tim’s the one pulling together speeches and keeping everything together.

Jason settles a hand on Tim’s shoulder, telling him it’s okay.

It doesn’t feel okay.

“You’re not going to stop until you’ve pushed yourself to the limit, Bruce,” Tim continues, shaking just as bad as his voice. He feels like a firework or some sort of ticking time bomb. As the flame gets closer- as the clock ticks down- he gets closer to setting himself off completely, and when that happens, he’s going out with a bang. “It’ll be just like last time. We’ll have to stop you from doing stupid things, and you won’t stop doing those things until Damian’s back and you’re satisfied. But we don’t only need Damian, Bruce. We need you to stay with us, this time. We need-” 

The look on Bruce’s face tells Tim that he’s hardly understanding a word he’s saying. “I understand that Damian’s gone, Tim. I do- But- He’s twelve. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go for him!” 

Maybe it is, Tim thinks. Maybe Damian was meant to die at ten years old. Maybe this is just the universe trying to correct Bruce’s mistake.

That thought makes Tim’s stomach flip like a fish on the deck of a fisherman's boat. Not only does he feel completely terrible for it, but he feels like he might be right. Most things- once dead- aren’t supposed to come back. They’re not meant to return. But, Burce had messed with fate and had told the universe that he didn’t care.

“You can’t keep doing this,” gasps Tim, doing his best not to cry again. “This isn’t fair.” 

“What makes this fair to Damian, either?” Bruce shoots back, and as much as the point is supposed to help him, it hurts his argument just as much. It’s not fair that Damian has to die again- it’s not. But, it’s hardly any more fair to keep bringing him back from the dead and putting him back into the life that only serves to hurt him.

All of the fight leaves Tim’s body. He slumps back down onto the couch, putting his head into his hands. “You can’t keep doing this, Bruce.” 

Tim’s not expecting a voice to ask, “Doing what?” When he hears it, he nearly jumps three feet into the air. Jason looks up in a flash, and even Bruce stops entertaining fantasies long enough to see who it is. 

It’s- it’s Duke. 

It’s Duke, and he’s standing in the doorway, dressed in a pastel yellow sweatshirt and black leggings, a yellow headband sitting on his head for no real reason. Once Tim sees the eyeliner on his face, he can immediately tell that he’d gotten wrapped up with the girls-

Which means they’re here, too.

“Sorry,” Duke hurries to mumble, stepping back. “I was just trying to find Alfred- the manor is huge, man-” -he chuckles to himself, self-consciously- “-uh- I’m probably interrupting something, aren’t I?” 

“It’s okay,” Tim hears himself say. “Steph and Cass- they’re here too?” 

Something about the atmosphere must have Duke off-kilter, because he can barely hazard a nod. But, it’s that nod that forces Tim to take a step back and breathe again. Duke always has this sort of light around him, and this time, it gets Tim to understand that what he’s feeling isn’t permanent. Tim, honestly, has no idea why- Duke has just been filling Tim with a raw sort of hope ever since they first met- since Duke had looked him in the eye and said, “I am Robin. We are Robin.” 

In the end, that’s what they are. They’re Robin through and through, and Robin always carries on. 

Jason- once realizing Tim’s not going to say anything else- gestures for Duke to take a seat before pulling out his phone to call Stephanie. Once she picks up, he starts on the longest conversation that’s only supposed to contain of ‘come downstairs’. “Hey. Tim and I stopped by the manor- yea, yea- bet that was fun, huh? No- No, that’s- oh, fuck no, man- Hi, Cass. You can say hi to Timmy yourself, Steph. Come downstairs- okay, okay. Maybe. Get your asses downstairs, first.” 

He ends the call. Tim gets no explanation. 

As Jason explains they’ll be down in a moment, Duke settles down onto the couch. Not for the first time, Tim thinks about how young Duke is- he’s no older than Tim, actually, and he’s doing wonders all on his own. While they all feel partial to the Robin logo- Duke included- he’s really settling into his role as Signal. 

It makes Tim feel like an old man, when he realizes he’s proud of what Duke’s done. Actually- Tim just feels old.

He feels old and tired and like the world’s problems are never ending, even when Duke’s presence gets Bruce to sit down and shut up for once. 

“Did something happen?” Duke asks. For the first time during this entire conversation, sunlight filters through the windows. 

Instead of answering him, Bruce looks at the eyeliner outlining his eyes and at the faint sparkle on his cheeks. “I didn’t even realize you were here,” Bruce says, stupidly. 

Tim isn’t sure that he can blame him. The manor is big, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that Tim grew up rich, he’d have gotten lost the very first time he stepped foot in it. Dick and Jason both admitted to getting stranded, once or twice, though Dick had always claimed that Jason was far better at maneuvering around the manor than he’d been. Tim doesn’t know if Cass has ever gotten stuck somewhere, but he’s gotten enough SOS calls from Steph that he feels pretty confident when he says Steph can hardly make her way around the manor on a good day. Hell, even Damian has gotten lost- or, so said Dick, since Damian would never have admitted it. 

Tim remembers the day that Dick had said it, clear as day. He’d come to Gotham for a brief stint of time, just to see Tim- sometime between Damian’s death by Heretic and his own faked one. They’d both been sentimental as they sat together on a park bench, watching doting mothers and caring fathers prance around with their kids. While Tim knew that Dick had been thinking about Damian, it’d been Tim who’d brought him up.

“It hurts,” he’d said. “It hurts to know I was right there when he died- and that I never really knew him at all. I never got to be that older brother I wanted to be. Damian hated me.” 

Dick had wrapped his arm over Tim’s shoulder, legs crossed over his knee as he leaned back. “Damian never hated you,” he’d told Tim, words soft and laced with truth. “Maybe once, I think- but- that was his fear talking. Damian- he never hated you.” 

Tim hadn’t believed him. Still doesn’t, to an extent. That afternoon, though, he had desperately wanted to. As the sun shone down onto them, and as the birds sang, Tim had never wanted to believe in anyone more than he’d wanted to believe in Dick, in that moment. 

“Damian means to say everything he says,” Tim had said, hopeless. “He means to do everything he does.”

“Not exactly,” laughed Dick. “Maybe everything he says, yes, but that doesn’t make them true.”

Dick had wanted to go on a spiel, there. He’d wanted to explain more about what he’d meant, Tim knew. To this day, Tim still doesn’t know why he’d never said what he wanted to. He doesn’t really know why Dick had only smiled that smile- the one that says I think you’ll understand later. 

It’s later. Tim still doesn’t know.

Instead of explaining, Dick had instead asked, “Have I ever told you about the week I helped him move back into the manor?” 

He hadn’t, as it turned out. 

The story goes like this: Bruce was back. He was going international. He left Dick as Batman for a little longer. For a while, Dick kept Damian in the penthouse. As Bruce’s world tour came to a close, Dick thought it best to move Damian back to the manor, so that he could get used to it again.

Before then, Damian had only lived in the manor for a few months- months that had eventually led to Bruce’s disappearance. He hardly knew where anything was- just his room and the grandfather clock that lead to the cave. Everything else wasn’t important enough- that, or he’d ever had time to learn.

So, Dick packed up Damian’s room for the second time. Damian hadn’t wanted to help. He hadn’t wanted to move. Eventually, though, he did. Dick and Damian slowly, but surely, moved Damian back into the manor.

As they unpacked the boxes, Dick had found something that belonged to someone else- a mistake, nothing more. He handed it off to Damian and sent him off to go find Bruce’s room. If Tim recalls the story correctly, it’d been a stray file that Dick had accidentally packed up when rooting through some stray books that Damian had left in Dick’s room. 

“My mistake had been assuming Damian knew where Bruce’s room was,” Dick had explained, carefully watching a father rush around with his son on his shoulders. “It wasn’t on the same floor as Damian’s was, after all.” 

As the story goes, almost two hours had passed before Dick realized Damian hadn’t gotten sidetracked- it was clear that he’d gotten turned around while trying to walk through the manor.

“That’s what I’d thought, anyway. Turns out I was right.” 

Forty minutes of careful searching later produced Damian, missing the file. He was squirreled away in one of the in-between rooms, tucked in the corner with his knees to his chest. He’d delivered the file after scouring the entire third floor- and half of the second- but when trying to return to his own room, he’d gotten overwhelmed.

“My first reaction was to laugh,” Dick had remembered. “He’d been so upset about not being able to ‘traverse’ the manor’s halls that he’d almost started to cry. He’d eventually found some humor in it, but swore me into secrecy. So- just don’t tell him I told you, alright?” 

Tim hadn’t, even after Damian’s return. He’d wanted too, if only to quell that horrible feeling in his chest after Dick was dead. And- Dick was right. There was nothing purposeful in getting lost. Damian was just as human as everyone else.

But- it hurts to think about Dick and Damian, now. It hurts to think about the moments that they share, that no one else is privy to. 

It just hurts. 

Tim’s two brothers down. Their family is crumbling to the ground before his eyes. Tim’s afraid that Bruce will be next, if he crumbles the way that he’d done before. If he does, Tim doesn’t think he’ll be able to watch.

Not this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus, if u want to kno what jason and steph's call went like: 
> 
> Jason: Hey.
> 
> Steph: Jason? Hi!
> 
> Jason: Tim and I stopped by the manor-
> 
> Steph: Oh, really? You're here now?
> 
> Jason: Yeah, yeah-
> 
> Steph: Oh, neat! Cass and I were just upstairs doing Duke's makeup! Aw, you should see what Cass did with my eyeshadow, too-
> 
> Jason: Bet that was fun, huh?
> 
> Steph: Totally! Oh- if you're here, you should get your own makeup done!
> 
> Jason: No, no- that's-
> 
> Steph: C'mon! I've got orange lipstick-
> 
> Jason: aw- fuck no, man-
> 
> Cass: Jay!
> 
> Jason: Hi, Cass. 
> 
> Steph: Say hi to Tim, for us.
> 
> Jason: You can say hi to him yourself. Come downstairs.
> 
> Steph: After I finish Cass' eyeshadow. Aw, man, we look so good. You've gotta let us do yours, Jay. No orange lipstik, I promise- we'll go full smoky red-
> 
> Jason: Okay, okay! Maybe. Get your asses down here, first.


	5. (un)touchable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph, Cass and Duke find out, and Bruce tries to tell them that they can bring him back if they just figure out how. Steph isn't having any of it.

There’s no way Tim could’ve prepared for seeing Cass and Steph walk into the room- not even under different circumstances. They’re both wearing far more makeup than Duke has on, both dressed in their own pastel sweatshirts and leggings. (Cass is in a pink one, and Steph’s is a light purple.) While Cass’ makeup looks expertly done- from the headband pushing her hair back to the sparkling lipstick she has on. Tim won’t lie- she looks very good. But, where her’s is amazing, Steph looks a little like she’d gotten steamrolled by purple glitter.

Jason whistles when he sees them, obviously reaching the same conclusion. They did each other’s makeup, and with Cass’ slight in-experience in the subject, it didn’t go too well for Steph. Steph, however, is taking it in stride. She flutters her eyelashes- which are a little clumpy, leaving a smear of mascara under her eye- and gives them a big grin.

“How do we look?” she asks, striking a dramatic pose. Cass flashes her own smile, waving to them.

“You both look very nice,” says Bruce, placatingly. Jason gives them both a thumbs up and tells them, “You could get on the cover of, like, _Vogue,_ or whatever.” 

Steph reaches up to fix her own headband, which is holding back the messiest bun Tim’s ever seen in his life. The way she flashes off her looks lets Tim know that she understands what Cass has done to her face, but she’s taking it like a champ. Once she chitters off, _I know, I know, we’re so beautiful,_ she and Cass plop down beside Duke. 

“I didn’t think you guys were gonna stop by,” Steph says, conversationally, as she leans back. Her arm goes on the back of the couch, around Cass. “What brings you down to the manor?” 

_Up to the manor,_ Tim thinks. He can’t take his eyes off of Stephanie. As weird as her makeup makes her look, she’s still pretty in every sense of the word.

Jason looks over to Bruce. Tim looks over to Bruce. Bruce looks everywhere he can, besides the two of them. God- sometimes Tim really wants to shake some sense into Bruce. He’s the adult here. It’s his son that’s gone- so, with all of the tact of a sixteen year old running on five hours of sleep for the past thirty six hours, Tim reaches over and swiftly kicks Bruce in the shin. Jason- with all of the tact of an undead young adult who really doesn’t have the patience to deal with Bruce’s shit- does the same to his other leg. 

“Something happened,” Bruce says, spurred into action. “It’s something that’s going to affect us as a family-” 

Duke shifts and looks to the door like he’s about to leave. Steph places a hand on his knee and whispers something to him that Tim can’t hear- but he’s willing to bet she told him that he’s family too. 

“Don’t you think we're missing a few people?” Steph asks, once she withdraws her hand to gesture around. She’s probably talking about Harper and Cullen, but when Tim thinks about it, he doesn’t really think that the two have even met Damian, have they? “Like- Carrie. Barbara? _Harper?”_ Steph lists them all on her fingers, counting down the people. She starts to say ‘Dick’, before she claps her mouth shut. “Maybe even _Selina,_ or, oh, I don’t know. Your other _son?”_

Damian.

The fact that Steph will so easily stand up for Damian- it’s really good. It hadn’t really been until recently that Tim thought like that, of course. At first, he told Steph to leave Damian alone. He’d always been calling her names- always had been horrible to those around him- always was _hurting_ everyone near him. But, then, Tim’s view started changing. Damian was only a little kid- one that kept getting handed a crummy hand, over and over and over. He didn’t really deserve most of the stuff that had happened to him. 

Of course, Tim had only thought like that _after_ Heretic.

Heretic had been the turning point for everyone, in regards to Damian. 

But, yes. Steph was always readily available to stick up or Damian- or to stick up for Jason and Tim. She’d fight against Bruce for _any of them._ That part of her only serves as a sour reminder, now.

When was the last time Steph saw Damian? When was the last time Steph got to talk to him? What were her last words? 

Oh God. Last words. 

“They’ll be informed in due time, Stephanie,” Bruce says, drawing everything out. Is he thinking of how to break the news? Both Steph and Cass were close with Damian- Cass and he had some unspoken understanding between them, from back in their shared League Days (both with a capital L and D). Steph had tried her best to do what Dick had strived to accomplish- get Damian to act his age, to get him to let loose and have _fun_ for once. Duke- out of all of them- had known Damian for the shortest amount of time. He’d only come into the equation after the whole _‘We are Robin’_ movement, following Bruce’s memory loss.

That doesn’t mean that the two weren’t close, though. Tim didn’t know _why_ they were- it wasn’t something he was really privy to, in the end. 

So, how _will_ they all take the news? 

Something pounds in Tim’s chest. Maybe if he just let Bruce do what he wanted to do, then they wouldn’t have to have this conversation. Tim doesn’t know how they’re going to react- he’d mourned Damian by himself, last time. He’d tied himself up in case after case until Dick finally got around to talking to him.

Tim looks at Duke. _We are Robin,_ he thinks. _We are, we are, we are._

Who’s going to be Robin now, though? Will Bruce ask Tim to fill in for the time being? Tim’s no kid anymore- no matter how much losing Robin hurts, and had hurt, he likes what he has, now. He’s not Bruce’s sidekick anymore. He’s his own person. So, if Tim turns him down, will Bruce find someone new? Will he go to Cullen? Or, will it happen by fate, like with Jason? 

That’s not an idea Tim wants to think about. Even if he’d been the one to pick up the ‘R’ after Jason’s death, it still _felt_ like Jason’s at first. Now it feels like Damian’s. He can’t imagine anyone else wearing that Robin costume. Not yet.

He’s not even sure if that’s something to worry about, though. Bruce hadn’t gotten a Robin before, after the Heretic. He’d been so consumed by the mantra of _bring him home bring him home bring him home_ that he hadn’t had the time to scour the streets for a new orphan to bring back. 

What if this time, it’s different? What if-

_What if, what if, what if._

Bruce had been talking. Tim hasn’t heard a single word. From the sound of it, he still hasn’t talked about Damian. Is Tim going to have to step in and blurt it out?

“Is this about Dick?” Steph interrupts. “Or- Ric, I guess. I swear I haven’t been to his place since forever ago.” 

They’ve been- sort of- banned from Dick’s place, ever since this whole _Ric_ thing happened. (Which makes Tim think- the last time Damian really saw Dick was during the Robin movement. Had anyone told him about Dick? Does he know?) Bruce kept pushing Ric, and so had everyone else- even, admittedly, Tim. They’d wanted him to come back. They didn’t think that they could take losing anyone else. But, reluctantly, they’d all agreed to let Ric make due on his own. 

Ric needed time. He needed space. If he wanted to come home, he’d have to do it himself.

But, did that mean they weren’t going to tell him about what happened to Damian? Were they not supposed to tell him until his memories came back? (If they came back at all.) 

No- No, that’s-

Tim’s going to tell him. _Someone_ has to tell him, Dick or Ric be damned.

“This isn’t about Dick,” Bruce says. “It’s never been about him. He’s as good as gone, you know that.” 

The admission that Dick’s gone sounds something like defeat. How is it that Bruce can chase endlessly after Damian, no matter where he goes or even if he _wants_ Bruce around, but as soon as it’s Dick in question, he can’t? Their ages are different, sure, but they’re both Bruce’s sons. What makes Dick any different? Well, maybe it’s because Dick is Dick. He’s uncageable, un _change_ able. He’s free from influence and yet he’s so malleable. He’s unmovable and indestructible and untouchable. Damian, however, will always chase after Bruce- will even follow him halfway across the world if it meant getting Bruce to smile at him for once. 

Bruce never deserved the worship Damian gave him. Not then. Not now.

“Who is it about?” Duke asks, when Bruce doesn’t say anything more.

“Damian,” Bruce replies, simply. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Damian’s gone, too. He’s gone, _but-_ But, I think that I-” 

He’s interrupted. Steph shoots to her feet as Cass brings her hand to her lips, as Duke whispers a soft _oh,_ as Tim’s gut does a quadruple flip, as Jason grips the arm of the couch just a little tighter. Steph marches right over to Bruce with so much feeling that it bleeds into the air and threatens to _choke._

“I think that I can bring him back,” Bruce tries, again.

Steph slaps him straight across the face. 

Tim moves quickly, but not quick enough. Jason’s on his feet first, so Tim slides in beside Cass and Duke, slotting his arm into place around Cass’ shoulders. To them, he whispers, _I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry._

Cass tells him to stop. He stops.

“I’m so sick of your _bullshit!”_ Steph shouts, as Jason tries to put a hand on her shoulder. “What happened this time? He died to protect your _stupid_ city? Your goddamned _legacy?_ Your identity? Or, are you _lying to us again?!”_

As she yells, her entire body shakes like it can’t contain her emotions. She’s about to burst like a balloon, overfilled to the point of over-exertion. Steph’s going to get hurt in the aftermath, but not before she tears Bruce apart.

Tim’s not sure he wants to stop her, even as he clears his throat and says, “He’s not lying. Not this time, anyway. Damian’s dead.” 

With a mighty shriek, Steph crouches down to the ground on the tips of her toes. “You _damned old man!”_ she cries, into her hands. Jason crouches beside her, trying to wrap his arm around her, but she springs up before he can, tears bubbling over like a pot left too long on the stove. “You get everyone around you killed, don’t you? You get them hurt, or you get them killed, but it’s all the same to you! Because you’re just _Bruce Wayne!_ You’re the goddamn _Batman!_ And you can bring them back to life whenever you _fucking please!_ Is that how it is?”

Her fists are curled. Her cheeks are red. Her eyes are shining, and despite the mascara running down her face and the smeared makeup that’s been rubbed away- mixing with her tears and her anguish and the hurt in her soul- Tim is left breathless in her wake. It’s so out of place. 

Bruce is breathless and wordless, too, but for a totally different reason.

“I asked- _is that how it is now, Bruce?!_ Is it of _no consequence_ to you, anymore?” Her voice begins to border on hysterical. “Oh- it’s okay! They’ll be back, don’t worry about it! It’s not like it _matters_ that we died! We can all act like it _didn’t fucking happen_ when you _bring us back to life!”_

“Steph,” Cass pleads. Tim holds Cass a little tighter.

Steph pulls back, just a little bit. It’s enough to cover the sob that racks her already quivering body. “I can’t keep doing this,” she says, quieter now. “We can’t keep on mourning like this, only for you to pretend like you’ve fixed everything. We can’t keep _dying_ like this, only for you to magically snap your fingers and bring us back. So- So if you’re going to say that you _can fix this?_ Shut your _goddamn mouth,_ Bruce. I can’t keep doing this.” 

And, in the end, she’s right. None of them can keep mourning people, only to have them return. They can’t keep dying for the world, only to return to the same life that’s going to kill them again. It’s a never ending cycle. Their bodies can’t keep up with it.

They can’t keep doing this.

Jason finally pulls Steph into his side. She’s not done, though. Steph is never done, when it comes to Bruce. 

“Did he die for you?” she asks, like a pleading mother, asking how her little boy died. “Did he die to fix your mistakes again?” 

“He died saving the world, I think,” Tim says. “None of us were there. I don’t think we can blame this all on Bruce.” He doesn’t know why he says that. He _can_ blame Bruce- Bruce never should’ve left Damian, or let him go off with Suren without an adult. But- blaming is easy. Blaming is easy, and Jason doesn’t want them to blame.

“We’re not blaming anyone this time around,” Jason adds, voicing Tim’s thoughts. “Damian wouldn’t want that.” To Stephanie, he says, “You know he wouldn’t want that.” 

Steph says, “I know.” 

The conversation fizzes out. Bruce had never even said a word.

Neither had Duke, though, so Tim shifts and reaches over, putting his hand on the worn fabric of Duke’s jeans. He gives it a little squeeze, as if to say _It’s okay._ Nothing’s okay right now, of course, but it will be. It _can_ be.

“This really sucks,” Duke whispers, rubbing at his eyes. His makeup doesn’t smear, oddly enough, even when tears start slipping down his cheeks. “I didn’t even get to really get to know him. We talked- had, like, a handful of conversations? But- now we’ll never talk again. And- he was only _twelve._ What the hell?” 

“I know,” Tim says. Cass leans her head back onto Tim’s shoulder, hair tickling his neck. She hasn’t cried, but Tim knows she’s just as wrecked as the rest of them. 

Duke sniffs. “It just- _God,_ this sucks.” 

“I know.” 

Tim does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like stephanie,,,,,,, shes,,,,,, :)) 
> 
> anyway, when she's yelling, she's thinking abt how she died and how jason died and how dami died (to heretic). uhhh, also, steph and jay are close, change my mind. jay and cass r also close but i Failed to add that here. Apologies.


End file.
